Alone
by ashhead
Summary: The raft mission was a success, and a rescue is on the way, but Kate doesn't want to be rescued. Skate.
1. Chapter 1

_Hi. This is my first Lost fanfic, so any feedback would be appreciated. It's set after series one, with the raft mission being a success. There will be other characters in the next chapter, but this one is mainly Kate. This chapter features some Jack/Kate, but I think the rest of the story will mainly be Sawyer/Kate. Oh, and I update very slowly :)_

Spurred by the sound of the approaching helicopters, Kate stuffed her clothes into her bag. She'd waited this long to pack, and that was cutting it fine really. She just hadn't been able to bring herself to do it until then, hadn't wanted to admit that this brief lull was over. This was the only period in her life that she could remember when her mind hadn't been obsessed with running away, ever since she was eight years old, it had been all she could think about. But she'd lost that, being here had given her a sense of security that she'd never got at any other time. She didn't want to have to go back to running.

But she could hear the helicopters, she couldn't deny that it was over anymore, and the urge that had kept her alive this long was too great for her to ignore. She had been preparing for this for days, gathering a few essentials, empty water bottles, matches, a few things nicked from Sawyer's stockpile. Everything was nearby, and she imagined that she might be able to come back after they had gone, scavenge some bits and pieces. She knew how to survive in this environment without it anyway, she knew how to survive in most environments, she'd had enough practice at it.

She regretted not saying goodbye to anyone, not that many of them would actually want to say goodbye to her anyway, she had Sawyer to thank for that. Ever since he'd told everyone she was the one in the custody of the marshal, they'd all looked at her like she was a monster. Which was exactly what she was of course, who else would kill their own father? But even so, she liked them, and she would miss them, it had been so long since she'd built an actual friendship with anyone, something that was entirely free of the terror that drove her, and she didn't want to let go of that.

She would have been tempted to ask Sawyer to stay with her, his life sounded almost as bad as hers had been. She knew he'd be flattered too, he'd see it as getting one over on Jack. But Sawyer was gone already, taking with him her only chance of being able to get off this island. She couldn't ask Jack, he had a life, a real life, with family and friends, and an actual job. So did everyone else here, even if any of the rest of them could meet her eyes, she couldn't ask them. So it was just going to be her, alone on this island. It would be lonely, but she'd be getting her wish, the wish she'd dreamed of for so long, just to be away from those who wanted to hurt her.

Out of her pocket, she drew her latest acquisition, something that had been very difficult to get hold of, one of Locke's hunting knives. Without any hesitation, she ran it down her arm, letting the blade sink in enough so that it would bleed properly. Ignoring the pain, she pulled the knife out, watching her blood glisten in the sun as it ran down the blade.

"Kate?"

She span round, knife still in hand, bringing herself ready to attack. She didn't relax when she saw it was Jack either, she wasn't going to let herself be talked out of this.

"What are you doing?" Her arm was dripping blood onto the ground, it looked to be quite a nasty cut, and from the knife in her other hand, it was definitely self-inflicted.

"I'm being eaten by a boar," she met his eyes, challenging him to say something. He knew full well what she was doing. She plunged the bloody knife into her white top, smearing blood onto it as she hacked bits off.

"You're faking your death," a statement, not a question. She wasn't going to come with them. "Do you really think they're going to fall for that?"

"I don't have much choice really, do I," her aggression faded as she saw his face, more softly she added, "You know what will happen if they find me."

He saw the fear in her eyes, he didn't know what she had done, but he knew it was bad, but he didn't want this to be the last time he saw her. "You could turn yourself in, it might not be as bad as you think. You've saved a lot of people while you've been here."

"Yeah Jack, I can really see that happening. When you get off this island, you'll have a choice over which talk shows to go on and which book deals to sign. If I go with you, the only choice I'll have to make is whether I prefer to die by lethal injection or the electric chair." She scattered the hacked up t-shirt on the ground around where her blood had dripped.

He looked at her for a moment, her face a beautiful picture of agony and turmoil. He made his decision instantaneously, ignoring the warning in his head. "We better get going then, they'll be here in a couple of minutes."

She smiled a sad, soft smile. He was offering her everything she wanted, but she couldn't take it. She shook her head and whispered, "You can't Jack."

"Kate," his voice was pouring sincerity, "You can't do this on your own. Let me come." His eyes pleaded with her, but he could see that she wasn't going to change her mind. "I would die for you, Kate."

A single tear dripped from her eyes, snaking its way down her face. "I know you would Jack. But too many people have died because of me already. If you want to do something for me, live your life Jack. I have to do this on my own." She felt the haze of more tears on their way; her vision blurred slightly as she turned to leave.

Jack pulled his shirt off as he came towards her. He placed it on her arm. "You need to keep the pressure on this until it stops bleeding, it's pretty deep. I'll leave all the medical supplies here, come and get them when everyone's gone. You need to clean that with some alcohol, you really don't want it to get infected." Pulling her into a hug, he whispered into her hair, "Goodbye Kate."

Pulling away, she looked at him curiously for a moment, then kissed him lightly. "Goodbye Jack."

He stood there long after she was gone, not even realising that he couldn't see her anymore. He could still feel her lips on his and still smell the delicate fragrance of her hair. It didn't make sense that she could be gone. It wasn't until the helicopters circled over to land that he even remembered that they were coming.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey guys. Thanks for the reviews, they're much appreciated. This is majorly quick for an update from me, it's because I'm avoiding writing an essay.  
Jsd- I haven't read Shadow Baby- we don't have capital punishment here (UK) and I wasn't sure what they options were (or even if there are any) and they were the only two I could think of.  
_

The helicopter had more passengers than the pilot would have liked. Walt had insisted upon coming back to collect Vincent, the two or so hours that it would have taken to bring him onboard the ship being too much to bear; which of course meant that Michael had to come too, being completely unable to leave his son. Jin had then taken it upon himself to come as well, if Walt was allowed to collect his dog, there was no way that Jin was not going to go back for his wife.

But Sawyer had come back for an entirely different reason. Apart from coming back as the hero, really getting to rub Jack's face into it, his real reason for coming back was to see her. One of the helicopters following them was full of US Marshals, lots of them, with lots of guns, all in full assault gear. Sawyer thought it was a little excessive, but then again, she'd been evading them for a while. Her being cornered on a desert island was probably one of the best chances they would have.

He needed to tell her that he was sorry, that he was wrong, that there was a reason to say stay, and that she was it. He needed to tell her all of the things that were jumbled up in his head, and he couldn't see how he was going to tell her any of it. But he needed to be there, needed to see her when they took her. He needed to see her face one last time. He was under no illusion about what they were going to do with her. She would be a high profile case, a pretty little girl, a vicious murderer, someone to be feared, someone to reassure the public that law enforcement was working. She would be dead in a couple of months time, and as much as he tried to shake the feeling of guilt that was consuming him, he knew that he was responsible.

So when the helicopter landed on the beach, Sawyer was oblivious to the cheer that went up. Walt jumped out of the door, landing in the sand with huge smile, his father's cries of, "Be careful," obliterated by Vincent's enthusiastic barks. Jin followed, catching his wife in his arms and losing the rest of the world for a moment. Sawyer stepped off last, scanning the crowd that had formed around the helicopter. Everyone was laughing, hugging, smiling. He didn't notice any of that, all he noticed was that she wasn't there.

Swearing under his breath he stepped into the sunlight and found himself being hugged by Charlie of all people. Pushing Charlie away, Sawyer asked, "Where's Kate?"

"Dunno, I think she went into the jungle with Jack a while back."

Ignoring Charlie's attempts at conversation, Sawyer pushed past him, looking for Jack. He'd only been gone for a couple of days, and already she was taking trips into the jungle with Jack, perfect. His irritation faded when he saw Jack run out of the jungle, covered in blood, shouting for help.

Running over to him, he ignored any injury that Jack could possibly have, instead demanding, "Where is she?"

As everyone else caught up with Sawyer, Jack caught his breath, eventually managing to murmur, "We were collecting fruit, she was up a tree. She saw something coming and shouted for me to run. A few seconds later, I heard a crash, she must have fallen out of the tree. By the time I got back, there was blood everywhere, whatever it was must have got her."

Jack didn't have a chance to say anymore, as Sawyer's fist collided with his jaw in a rather satisfying crunch.

All the thoughts that had been tormenting Sawyer for days finally solidified into a voice that was dripping with hatred, "You let her die?" He hit Jack again, his fist colliding with the side of Jack's face and knocking him to the ground. Before his boot could reach Jack's stomach, Sawyer found himself being pulled backwards by his arms.

"Come now, Mr. Ford, you're causing a scene." A pair of US Marshals led him away as the Marshal who had spoken turned to examine Jack. "You said Kate Austin was dead?" As Jack nodded, the Marshal smiled grimly. "Now that's such a shame, isn't it." Nodding to one of the other Marshal's, he continued, "Jack here's going to come and have a chat with us for a bit."

Watching Jack being led off by the Marshal's wasn't nearly as satisfying as it should have been. In fact it wasn't satisfying at all. Instead, all Sawyer could manage to feel was completely hollow. He was numbly going through the stuff he had accumulated over the month he had been here, most of it complete and utter crap, none of it mattering to him at all.

Even so, he had been attached enough to it to notice that a few things were missing. Small things, things that no one would think he would notice. A few matches, a lighter, some of the alcohol. It struck him as slightly odd that someone would steal some of this crap when they knew a rescue was on the way. It didn't hit him for a second. When it did, he sought out Jack, and that was what convinced him. Jack was putting on his overly sincere, eager to please act. Which could only mean one thing. Kate was alive.

Leaving all the stuff which he had so meticulously hoarded, he ran into the jungle without looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for the reviews- it makes writing much more fun :). Thanks to Imzadi for clearing up about the death penalty- shows what I know. I shall probably do a Jate story at some point- because that's equally fun._

Jack wiped the bitter tears from his eyes, smearing her blood across his face. He supposed it helped with act, but that wasn't why these tears were falling. These tears where falling because he'd finally figured out that he couldn't have her. She'd been floating around him ever since he'd got here, inhabiting his dreams as much as she had his waking thoughts. But whenever he thought he knew her, whenever he made a decision involving her, she would float away, becoming something else completely. And it wasn't until now that he realised why: she wasn't from the same world as he was. He was from the respectable part of society, she wasn't part of society at all. And whilst she might fascinate him, whilst he might want her more than he had ever wanted anything, he was never going to be able to have her, because she wasn't reachable, at least not for him.

So he was going to protect her, to do what she asked, to live for him, because she couldn't live for herself. The first part of that involved getting everyone of the island, leaving her alive, albeit alone. The marshals had easily fallen for his lies, people always did if you told them what they wanted to hear. They were going to be the last to go back though, just in case. He hoped Kate would be smart enough to stay away that long.

Some of them had gone already, Claire being helped onto the helicopter by an overly exuberant Charlie, Sayid guiding a still subdued Shannon onto another. It wasn't until most of them had gone that Locke approached him.

"It's a shame. About Kate." Locke squinted at Jack's blood-streaked face, reading on it what he had expected. "She shouldn't have to stay here on her own."

That caught Jack's attention, his breath catching in his throat as he started up. Glancing around, he saw that no one was paying attention and a wave of relief washed over him. Feigning ignorance particularly badly, Jack answered, "She's dead Locke."

"Jack." Locke held Jack's gaze for a moment. "We both know that's not true." Locke watched Jack squirm for a minute, unable to lie about it, but unwilling to admit she was alive. "You realise they're not going to buy it, don't you?"

"They bought it already, Locke."

"No they didn't, they're still here aren't they?" Letting his words speak for themselves, they both watched the marshals as they passed out guns. "I'm not going to turn her in Jack. I want to help. Sawyer left and hour ago, they saw him go. They're going to want you to take them to where Kate 'died'. You better hope she did a good job of making it look authentic."

Disgust was a mild word for what Jack was feeling, Sawyer was such an idiot sometimes. He was going to get Kate caught, and somehow make it all Jack's fault in the process. "What are we going to do about Sawyer?" Unconsciously, Jack had already built Locke into his plan for helping Kate, despite his dislike of the man, there was no one else left to help.

"I'll bring Sawyer back." All Jack's misgivings at this were kept silent by the approach of the marshals.

"Dr. Shepherd, a word please." Although the phrase was polite, it clearly wasn't a request. Jack followed with a glance over his shoulder, watching Locke disappear into the jungle. He just hoped to god that Kate was as good at this as she thought. The marshals clearly hadn't bought the story, and he hated that his incompetence might have hurt her. He ignored the fact that Sawyer's idiocy was far more likely to hurt her, hoping Locke could find Sawyer before he wrecked everything.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks for the reviews :) This is a very short chapter I'm afraid. But I should update fairly soon._

"Are you stupid?" The harsh voice cut across the jungle like glass, making Sawyer jump. He'd been entranced by the beating of his heart and the thumping of his boots on the undergrowth. He was not aware that he was being followed.

Locke held his face impassive as Sawyer turned to face him with a look of thunder in his eyes. "Because that's what it looks like. Running off into the jungle to find her when there's a beach full of men who want her dead." Locke's words were light and even as Sawyer's temper flared.

"Well what would you recommend? Leaving her here on her own? That would be a brilliant idea, wouldn't it? She's the island's Miss Stability, she wouldn't last five minutes."

"You underestimate her Sawyer. Her drive for survival is stronger than you think."

Sawyer's answer was cut short before he could give it by a gunshot. He dropped to the ground, seeing Locke do the same.

"I guess you underestimated me too Locke." Kate's voice was unshaken as she climbed down the tree. As Sawyer picked himself up off the ground, he noticed the blood gushing from Locke's leg. Kate had shot him. He backed away slowly, noticing the gun was still her hand.

Noticing Sawyer's reaction, Kate smiled sadly. "He's not a good man Sawyer."

Looking at Kate from an entirely different light, he noticed for the first time how frightening the steel in her eyes could be, and how well trained her reflexes were. "So you shot him?"

This did make Kate smile. She looked down at Locke, her eyes threatening more than her movements ever could. "Are you going to tell Sawyer what you did, or shall I?"

Locke, who hadn't made a sound since Kate had shot him, didn't say a word. He was staring off into the distance, looking at something which neither Kate nor Sawyer could see.

"Guess that means I'll do it." Coming closer to Sawyer, close enough that she could collapse against him, she looked into his eyes, losing herself for a second. "He sold us out Sawyer. Me, you, Jack. He even told them about Charlie's being an addict."

Sawyer looked at the man lying on the ground, the bottom half of his left leg soaked in his own blood. Locke was crazy, sure, but to sell them out? Sawyer didn't get it. "Why?"

"To get them to leave him here. He thinks the island is special, that he's destined to be here." Kate's voice was thick with disgust.

"So he sold us out to stay on this heap of rock?" Looking around him, Sawyer couldn't understand it. "Why would anyone want to stay here?"

Softly, with so much apprehension in her voice that Sawyer wanted to pull her into his arms, Kate whispered, "Why are you here Sawyer?"

Instead of hugging her, he slung his arm across her shoulders, bringing her body just close enough so he could feel her heat. "I got me a pretty girl." Hearing her laugh and seeing the bright smile that lit up her face as she rolled her eyes, he laughed himself. "She just don't know it yet."


	5. Chapter 5

_Ta for the reviews, they're always good_

Kate's shooting of Locke had taken Sawyer by quite a lot of surprise. He knew she'd killed someone, but he'd seen the look on her face when she talked about, so much pain that it was overwhelming. But when she shot Locke, there was nothing, no worry, no pain, no reaction at all. She may as well have tossed him a mango as shot him in the leg. Whilst Sawyer knew that she was capable of pulling the trigger, he expected a little more guilt from her.

Even so, he kept his arm around her, needing to feel her, even if she couldn't feel anything at all. That Locke had betrayed them he didn't doubt. Locke had his own agenda, he always had done. Life was not something that counted to him, and selling people out to stay here was something Sawyer could very well see him doing. But he couldn't feel anger at Locke, it was just something that he had done. There had been no vindictiveness in it, it was just a matter of survival. Instead, Sawyer felt numb, cold. He was looking at Kate for the first time, seeing who she really was. She would kill for her own survival, and Locke was right, he had underestimated her.

Kate, on the other hand, had had enough of his silent examination. "Just go Sawyer," she muttered with just a touch of anger, shrugging his arm off.

Seeing the hostility in her pose, Sawyer cut of his sarcastic reflex, instead asking, "What are you talking about?"

"You found your 'pretty girl', but she's got a penchant for shooting people that freaks you out." Shaking her head, surprised at the anger that was burning inside her, she tried to calm her voice. "Just go Sawyer. It's fine." She looked at him, daring him to defy her. Seeing her anger, Sawyer said nothing, keeping her eyes with hers, watching as the angry façade that she was using to protect herself faded. "You didn't hear him Sawyer. He told them everything, anything that he could think of to hurt us. He told them that Jack was lying about me. He told them that you shot the Marshal," Kate didn't noticed Sawyer start at this, she was keeping her eyes as far away as possible from his, afraid of his response as she whispered, "He told them they could use you to get me."

Sawyer swore to himself. He'd dealt with that situation superbly. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her into a hug, resting his head on hers for a moment. "It's ok. The git got what he deserved." With a smile, he added, "You're awfully good with that gun Freckles."

She glanced at it, a comforting weight in her hand, the metal warmed by her touch, smeared with her sweat. It was as much a part of her as her arms were, something she knew, something she could trust. With so much effort that it frightened her, she placed the gun into his palm, closing his fingers around it. Looking at him directly, she whispered, "I never wanted to be. I never wanted any of this."

Sawyer found that he couldn't hold her gaze, the raw honesty and pain in it was too much for him. He slid the gun into his pocket, the warmth of her touch that lingered on it burning into his leg. "Lets get out of here."

Sawyer dipped underneath a low hanging branch, waiting for Kate to follow him. Instead, she was staring intently at a muddy patch of earth, created by the steady drip of water running off a rocky outcropping. "Sawyer, take your clothes off." She dropped her backpack onto the ground, reaching to take the shirt she had on over her top off.

"Excuse me?" Sawyer stared at her aghast for a moment, annoyed partly by the look of irritation on Kate's face. "You know I'm happy to oblige Freckles, but d'ya think that this might not be the best time in the world?"

Kate smiled, a real smile, one that reached her eyes, "You turning me down Sawyer?" She moved herself a touch closer to him, enjoying the moment far more than she would ever admit. Watching him squirm, she saved him from answering by letting him in on what she was really thinking. "They've got a sniffer dog. We need to hide our scent."

She continued to take her shirt off, wincing as the dark material ripped at the gash in her arm. When she pulled her arm out, she uttered a gasp. Blood was streaked all over it, her skin taking on a reddish-brown colour that could not be healthy. Blood poured freely from her arm. She'd done a better job with that knife than she had intended. Somehow, the agonising pulses of pain that had been coursing through her arm since she'd ripped her arm open seemed to intensify, as if her awareness made it worse.

"Kate," her name from his mouth made her start, the word sounded unfamiliar, and yet, it sounded right, distracting her for a moment from the pain. How could one word be full of so much emotion, lust, fear, guilt, everything that made up Sawyer tumbled out in that one word. "What happened?" He was next to her in a second, his hands incredibly gentle for all their strength as they took her arm.

"Guess I'm not as good with a knife as I am with a gun." Her words were supposed to sound light, supposed to hide her pain. Instead, they were filled with, mixed with a healthy dose of fear and self-derision.

"You did this?" Disbelief was evident all over him, how could she have possibly have done this, it was too deep, too painful. She nodded briefly, not looking at him, letting strands of her hair fall across her face, providing scant protection against him.

She removed her arm from his grasp a little too violently, unable to hide the pain that flickered across her face. Ignoring his reaction, she went to remove the rest of her clothing.

"You can't put mud on this, it'll get infected." There was genuine concern in his voice that moved her.

"You the doctor now?" Aggression was a safe response for her, she knew where she was with that.

He just looked at her, forcing her to drop her barriers. She hated that he could see inside of her so easily. "I can't let them catch me Sawyer, I can't go back to that. You don't know what it's like, always being afraid, living in a cage you can't get out of. I can't do that again." He didn't think she was talking about prison, but he didn't say anything, he knew what it was to be afraid.

"We'll get out of this Kate, we will, we'll just find another way." Kate wanted to protest, not believing that there was another way, but something in his eyes warned against it.

"Well isn't this sweet, Katie's got a new friend." A harsh, derisive voice cut through the atmosphere, breaking Kate's fragile sense of safety. In a second she had the gun from Sawyer's pocket in her hand, pointed at the marshal.

"Now I wouldn't do that Katie, it would be such a shame if another one of your boyfriends died, wouldn't it." An unconscious and bleeding Jack was dumped on the floor, the Marshal's gun tracing his jawbone lightly. "So, are you going to put that gun down?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Hi guys. Thanks for the reviews, I love them so much :). Imzadi- interesting insight into Kate. I think she has changed, but I'm not sure if she has realised that she has._

Kate's mind had gone blank. How could she possibly put the gun down? It was the only thing protecting her from getting caught. As long as she had it in her hand, no one was going to force her to go anywhere, to do anything. But then there was Jack, lying on the floor in such an uncomfortable position, blood pouring from his mouth, his shirt soaked in it, although it was hard to tell what of that was his and what was hers. He looked so vulnerable, which in truth he was, everyone who got mixed up with her was. For a moment, it was Tom lying on the floor in front of her, Tom who she had loved so much that she'd gotten him killed. And even though she knew it was Jack on the floor, and not Tom, the situation was the same. She loved him, and he was going to die for her, because there was no way she was putting the gun down.

The marshal wasn't aware of Kate's decision, his gun still pressed into Jack's neck. "See, the thing is, I shoot him, and you die anyway. You're not getting out of this Katie, not this time. Ed was stupid, but not everyone is as stupid as he was. I kill the good doctor now, and everyone will believe you did it. Katie likes killing men, her Dad, her boyfriends, it doesn't matter who." The marshal moved away from jack, one of his subordinates taking his place. Very slowly, he inched his way closer to Kate, her finger applying a very slight amount of pressure to the trigger. In a soft, malicious whisper, the marshal met Kate's eyes, "I already know you can't sleep at night, do you really want to add the doctor to your guilt."

A sickening wash of memory enclosed Kate, prying eyes watching her through the darkness, a biting coldness that was more numbing to her soul than her body, the bitter tears that wouldn't stop falling. Very slowly, very deliberately, she placed the gun on the floor, ignoring Sawyer's protests. She had asked Jack to live for her. The least she could do was give him a chance. She didn't want to go back to the darkness, but she couldn't stay here, especially not if Jack was dead. The darkness was her penance, if she paid it, maybe she could forget all the things she had done. Softly, so that only Sawyer could hear, she whispered, "I have to." She didn't even resist when the marshal brought the butt of gun against her head, knocking her into unconsciousness. She slammed unceremoniously against the earth, collapsing on her cut arm.

Looking at Sawyer, the marshal smiled, "The doctor must have been good, I didn't think anyone would ever tame Katie."

Sawyer looked at her crumpled form on the ground. He hadn't thought anything would ever tame her either, hadn't wanted anything to tame her. The look on her face when she put the gun down was heartbreaking. Lying there, he could almost pretend that she wasn't the Kate he knew, so small and fragile she seemed.

"So cowboy, are you going to carry her, or am I going to have to arrest you too?" The viciousness had vanished from the marshal's eyes, leaving a mock-friendliness that did nothing to calm Sawyer's hatred of the man.

Very carefully, he lifted her into his arms, wincing as her blood slid down his chest. His eyes focused on the gun for a second. He could have it in his hands in less than a moment, with a bullet through the marshal before he could blink. But there were two others, and Kate was in his arms, bleeding to death already. She was what was important, nothing else. He knew she was scared to be caught, but he wasn't going to let her die. So he left the gun, picking her up, finding himself surprised at how little she weighed. If they got out of this, he was going to make sure she got more to eat. That thought made him smile, he could just imagine her reaction if he tried to make her eat more.

"Let's go." The marshal used his still loaded gun to point the way back to the beach as one of the others picked up Jack. Sawyer fought the urge to hit the man, his arrogance rubbing Sawyer just enough to make Sawyer want to explode. He was going to get Kate out of this, and when he did, this idiot would regret this.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks for the reviews- I love them :)_

Sawyer gently lowered Kate's body onto the sand, placing her under the shade. Her light weight was perhaps the only reason why they had made it so quickly, any heavier and his arms would have rebelled ages ago, they ached as it was. Most of the blood on his chest was dry, her arm had stopped gushing a while back, a promising sign, the only good sign Sawyer could see at all, and the only reason Sawyer had hurried. But whilst Jack had made his way back into consciousness, Kate hadn't even stirred. Her eyelids had remained closed, suggesting a peaceful sleep that was only betrayed by her ragged breathing and the wound on her head.

"How is she?" Sawyer asked Jack, ignoring the idiot marshal who raised his gun at his voice. The marshal who'd hit Kate was conversing with some kind of official partway down the beach, leaving two more, both of whom were aiming their guns at Kate.

Jack had been examining Kate. The knock on her head would be painful, but it wasn't likely to cause any problems. The cut on her arm was something else entirely. It had mostly stopped bleeding, but unless it got treated soon, it would probably get infected. "If we get out of here soon, she'll be fine." Except she wouldn't be fine, she would be in custody, but 'she'll be fine' sounded better than 'she won't be dead'.

"What the hell do you mean we can't take her?" To say the marshal was extremely pissed would have been an understatement. He stepped closer to the slighter man, using his height to intimidate.

"Do you understand what would happen if the press found out about this place? About the research that has been done here? Those people on the boat we can bribe into silence, even the Rutherford girl accepted our money, and her brother died here. But that girl, you know what her silence would cost. You say she's a murderer, do you want to release her when we get back?" It would have been fine if she was ugly, the press wouldn't have batted an eyelid, there were plenty of kids who had been beat up by their parents who turned round and killed them. But she had to look like that, the press would be all over her. All she had to do was mention this place once, and she'd expose everything.

"We're taking her with us," the marshal hissed, setting his hand very obviously on his gun holster.

"Don't embarrass yourself. You can kill her if you want, but she's not coming back with us." Bored of the conversation, and aware that the marshal contained too much testosterone to possibly back down, the official walked towards the helicopter, eager to be out of this hellhole.

Swearing loudly, the marshal watched the official's back for a moment, then smiled crudely. If she wasn't going to jail, he could at least get some fun out of this. He walked back towards where they were, signalling to his men to back off a bit.

Sawyer and Jack were sat in the ground not far from Kate, saying nothing. They were so intent upon this that the marshal went unnoticed until his boot collided with Kate's stomach. Kate screamed loudly, her body forced back into consciousness as she instinctively rolled away from the source of her pain, taking up a defensive position. Instantly, Sawyer and Jack were on either side of her, ready to protect her.

"Sit down boys." The marshal pulled out his gun, "Otherwise Katie gets shot." The standoff only lasted a second, with Sawyer, then Jack, backing down without protest. "They're so obedient," the marshal leered at Kate as he came closer to her, his gun still trained at her. Pressing the gun into her stomach with enough force that she had to suppress a gasp of pain, he ran his other hand across her face. "With a face like this, you could almost get away with murder." He laughed, ignoring the disgust in her face, and whispered into her ear, "Almost."

Kate recoiled from his touch, the harsh bite of his breath against her neck, the reality of his words. She didn't get away quickly enough though, his free hand gripping her injured arm, forcing a scream from her mouth as her vision blurred and her body collapsed under her.

The marshal climbed on top of her, pressing his gun into her neck, the cold metal sending blood coursing about her head, her heartbeat almost deafening.

Seeing the marshal on top of Kate, and lacking Jack's belief that interference would only make the situation worse for her, Sawyer snapped. Every muscle in his body tensed as he pounced from where he had been sat onto the marshal, knocking the man off her and onto the sand. "You do not touch her." Sawyer had the man pinned underneath him, ready to pound all of today's frustration into him. Unfortunately, the gun being cocked just below his ear gave him pause for thought, and he relinquished the marshal, stepping back, noticing that Kate had crept back from where she had been, ready to bolt into the bushes.

The marshal shook himself down. As well as having her blood on his clothes, he now had sand encrusted into them as well, and that was going to be a pain to get out. He picked his gun up from the ground and eyed Sawyer with a sadistic look in his eyes. "If you want her that much, you should have said." Without even considering what he was doing, the marshal turned and shot Kate in the stomach, the ringing in the air and the shocked look on her face priceless to him. "You can keep her." Turning with a smile, he instructed his men to bring Jack, they were leaving. The shot in her stomach would kill her, but it would do so slowly and painfully. The cowboy could have her all he wanted until then.

Jack was dragged into the helicopter by the marshals who had been holding Sawyer back. Their job was rendered useless when Kate was shot, Sawyer had had a choice between helping Kate or taking revenge, and helping Kate had one easily. Jack could still see Sawyer cradling her in his arms as they took off. He hoped to hell she lived, too much guilt would be on him if she didn't. As the island disappeared into the horizon, Jack dwelt on Kate's earlier words to him, what should have been her last words to him. Silently, he resolved to keep his promise to her, he would live.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thanks for the reviews, sorry it took so long to update_

The noise the helicopter made as it left the beach was deafening, and without Kate's ragged breathing tearing at him she could well be dead in his arms for all he knew. The tornado of sand kicked up by the propellers attacked his eyes, burning them as he used all his energy to keep Kate's face and wounds pressed against his body. She was bleeding to death against him, and all he could do was hold her tight and pray she would be ok. Sawyer wasn't really the praying type, but Kate was his exception, Kate was his exception to everything. She was the one he didn't have to lie to, the one he didn't have to have a front with, she knew who 'Sawyer' was, and whether he liked it or not, she knew who he was. So he kept her shielded in his arms and prayed for her, prayed for himself, prayed for them both.

Kate's vision had clouded by the time the helicopter had gone, not that she particularly noticed it going, the beating of her heart eclipsing everything else. She could hear Sawyer's voice, somewhere far away, but his words wouldn't form in her mind. She was trapped inside herself, the shadow of reality forgotten, erased by the cold numbness that was spreading throughout her body, fighting the beating of her heart. Somewhere, someone was telling her to keep her eyes open, but that couldn't be right, she was so tired, she wanted to sleep, wanted to escape the numbness that was eating her.

Sawyer's luxury beach shack seemed ridiculously inappropriate for what he was going to have to do, cramped and dirty. He'd placed her on his makeshift bed of airplane seats, but they were too small for anyone over the age of eight to actually lay on properly, and her body was shaking, worrying him that she might fall off. He had abandoned his attempts to keep his voice calm and level, she hadn't responded to that, and so he had let his fear creep in, releasing emotions he never thought he would let out. His hand shook as much as she did when he placed his hand on her forehead, trying to steady her, reassure her. His own thoughts sunk into desperation as he took in her cold, clammy skin, icy despite the overpowering heat of the sun. Her eyes wouldn't focus on him, her eyelids fluttering wildly. He didn't have to be a doctor to know that these were not good signs. The fact that she was still conscious, if not lucid, surprised him. She was real bad, loosing blood quickly, and he was going to have to try and fix her.

He wished, for the first time since he'd met the man, that the marshals had left Jackass here. Sure, Freckles would probably go all lovey-dovey on him for saving her life, but at least she would be alive, and he wouldn't be alone. Instead, it was up to him, a redneck con-man who didn't have a clue about anything, much less how to save Kate's life. Taking the hidden remnants of his vastly dwindled alcohol supply, Sawyer doused his hands in vodka, and with a silent apology, covered the hole in her stomach with it too.

"This is gonna hurt Freckles." Sawyer's fingers hesitated over the wound, terrified of the damage he might do. But the knowledge that she was as good as dead if he didn't do anything forced him to act. His fingers groped blindly, finding the bullet and soliciting an agonised scream from Kate. He pulled it out quickly, wincing at her pain, ignoring the blood dripping from his hand. He pushed one of his shirts into the wound, trying to halt the flow of blood his actions had caused to spew from her. Only when he had composed his thoughts and pushed his guilt back did he dare to look at her. She had lost consciousness, her face looked peaceful. Despite the smearing of dirt and blood, despite the bruising left by the marshal, she looked more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.

Enchanted by her, it took him a moment to realise that she wasn't breathing. Terrified that he had killed her, Sawyer sat there, trapped in his memories. It had taken him an eternity to crawl out from beneath his bed, pushing past his father's boots, creeping out to where his mother had fallen. He was that boy again, trapped in the same moment, unable to move, afraid of what he might see.

Kate shattered these thoughts, as she had done before, a shallow breath escaping her lips. Sawyer felt himself fall apart, the only thought left in his mind was that she was still alive. Sat in the sand, pressing his shirt into her stomach, he made a bargain with her, "You owe me Freckles. Wake up, and we'll call it even."


	9. Chapter 9

_Sorry this took so long. Comments/criticisms welcome :)_

Sawyer's muscle itched for some sort of movement, numbness ate at his legs; he'd been sat motionless for hours now, sunlight had long since disappeared. Not having bothered to light a fire, he was completely surrounded in darkness. If he were to wave his hand in front of his face, he wouldn't be able to see it. But he could see her, she was etched into his mind, filling his senses; the softness of her breath, echoed by the crashing of the waves against the shore; the heat of her skin against his, the only warmth in a freezing night; the smell of her blood, a metallic tang in the air.

It had taken him a while to work up the confidence to sew her up. He wasn't really a sewing man, his experience with it limited to stabbing whoever sat next to him in his high school home tech class with a needle. But he had a sewing kit, scrounged from someone's suitcase and kept for no other reason than because it might be useful to trade. He had stared at the different coloured threads, wondering at which one he should choose, and then being disgusted at the thought of that actually being important. With a wry smile, he had gone for a pink thread, knowing that if she was conscious she'd get her back up at him for presuming that because she was a girl she would like pink. He didn't let his mind consider that she wasn't conscious, and that was why he had to choose a thread, instead concentrating on the impossible task of threading the needle. With his eyesight the way it was and with the dwindling light, this took him long enough that he had gone through his complete repertoire of curses by the time it was threaded. But that was the easy part, the hard part was pushing a needle through her flesh. Removing the bullet had been difficult, but it had been quick, not something that Sawyer had to think about. But pinching her skin together and forcing a needle into it, the bruised and damaged tinge of red and black seeming to darken as he did, cut into him. It was a slow, careful movement, and this gave him time to reflect upon how injured she actually was, and how likely it was that she wouldn't survive the night. He'd been stitched up enough himself to recognise what he had to do, and he crisscrossed the thread across the wound, pulling it together, feeling a stab of pain each time he forced the needle through her.

That was hours ago, but it still haunted him more than anything else. She was his chance at a new life, and trying to patch her up was just further evidence to his twisted mind that he wasn't going to have that life. Once he had finished, he had sat there studying her, taking in every detail of her, the luxury of time and privacy a new thing to him. Whilst he had seen her every day for almost two months, whilst he thought he knew her, looking at her now, he could see there was so much he didn't know. Even when he thought he had taken her all in, the light would change the way shadows fell across her face, illuminating her in a new way. This was not something that Sawyer would ever do, never before had he simply watched a woman for no other purpose than simply because he enjoyed it. But it was something he was doing, something he had spent all day doing, and continued to do even though he could no longer see her. If he took his eyes off her, it would be like giving up on her. If he took his eyes off her, she would die, he knew that. He needed to hold her here, keep her with him, and the only way he could do that was with his eyes.

By the time the grey light of early morning began to invade his aching eyes, he'd managed to convince himself completely that he was all that was keeping her alive. His obsession with a woman he barely knew, a woman who was dying in front of him, was only shattered when she started to convulse. Forced back into the harsh reality that faced him, he ran a hand through his hair. It came back covered with flakes of dry blood, her blood, and he forced himself into action. Without a second glance, he turned away from her, forcing his eyes from her fragile form, and left to get water and antibiotics, hoping against hope that he hadn't left her to die, that his abandonment of her hadn't killed her. Because the only thing that he was sure of was that he couldn't do this alone.


	10. Chapter 10

After the first night, sense had begun to creep back into Sawyer. After running around the beach in a hurry, searching for antibiotics and bottled water, he had returned to find her in the same state as before he left, and he couldn't really believe it. He'd expected her to be dead, had felt so very guilty, and yet there she was, still breathing, still alive. He'd managed to get some water and two pills into her, although he'd been surprised at how difficult that was. Upending the bottle of water into her mouth didn't do nearly as well as he thought it would, spilling water all over her face and soaking his trousers as he sat underneath her. Muttering fervent apologies and attempting to wipe the moisture off her face firstly with his fingers, and then with the ends of her hair, figuring she wouldn't know and that it was better than moving her whilst he searched for something clean to dry her face with.

With a little more caution, he trickled some water into her mouth, encouraging her to swallow it, and surprised when he got a response. He tried to convince himself that it meant nothing, but the fact that she actually managed to swallow water was such a momentous occasion for him that he felt his despair lift slightly. Her swallowing water was the most interaction she'd given him since he'd pulled the bullet out, the first proof that maybe he wasn't going to have to spend eternity alone on a haunted island.

From there, he'd allowed himself to leave her again, to search for more water, some food and some wood. After spending the night staring into the darkness, unsure of whether she was alive except for the soft breaths that punctuated the cold air far too infrequently, he'd forced himself to light a fire, to not have to go through that again. He wanted to be able to see her, to know that she was still alive without having to suffer the agony of the eternity between her breaths.

Two days later he had found himself forced to leave her to cut more wood. Apparently Jackass and his do-good brigade didn't think that it was necessary to chop wood, and had just been living off the supply Sawyer had left them. To leave her alone in his tent for more than few minutes seemed like a horrible to thing to do, but he actually revelled in being out in the air, being able to clear his mind with some hard labour. Instead of his mind flashing the same rotation of images in front of his eyes again and again, he concentrated on lifting the axe, bringing it down, hitting the wood with a satisfying clatter, and bringing it back up again. The marshal on top of Kate, Sawyer pummelling into him, the marshal shooting her, pulling out the bullet, sewing her up, a pair of feet blocking him in, over and over again. Hitting the wood was the only thing that banished those images, shattering them and spreading them with the splinters that went flying from his axe.

By the time he had got enough wood for the next couple of days, he was dripping in sweat. It had been too close to midday for chopping wood to be a good idea, which was precisely why Sawyer had chosen to do it then. The harder it was, the more it would hurt, and the less chance he would have to think. He wouldn't have thought that he would have missed doing this, an arduous, tiring task, but it was therapeutic in a way he had never realised before, settling him into a routine, setting his mind at ease, if only for a little while. By the time he had finished he had thoroughly managed to wear himself out, chopping far more wood than was needed, but enough to keep his mind skipping off into paranoia.

Stepping back and stretching a little, his muscles sore from the exertion, he picked up his water bottle and took a mouthful, the water warmed from the sunlight, but refreshing nonetheless. Hot, and uncomfortable in his pants, he stripped them off, and with a surreptitious glace up and down the beach, which didn't really make sense to him as he knew that no one was going to be about, and he wouldn't have really cared even if they were, he pulled his boxers off and stepped into the water. It was far more refreshing than the water in the bottle, cooling him and relaxing his body. The swell of the waves slapped at his chest gently, the sun glistening on the water around him and warming his hair.

Somewhat reluctantly, he got out of the water far earlier than he would have liked. Having washed some of the dirt off and cooled himself down, his mind became uncomfortably aware of the fact that Kate was alone in the tent, and had been for hours. He needed to hear her breathe, needed to watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest, needed to believe that she was alive, and that he wasn't here alone. Drying himself roughly in the shirt he had brought with him but not worn, he pulled his clothes back on. His steady footsteps down the beach quickly turned into a run, sand flying behind his wet footprints. He needed to know.


	11. Chapter 11

She was so thirsty, the need for water overpowering the rest of her senses which would have otherwise have been screaming at the agony she was in. Her body felt like it had been stripped of all moisture, baked for hours in the sun and ripped apart by sandstorms. But in her mind, there was nothing wrong with that, it seemed appropriate for who she was and what she had done. Even so, the survivor in her, the one who had forced her through a lifetime of agony and isolation, forced her up, pushed her where her body would have just preferred to stay put and let fate sort the rest out.

It was then that she noticed something was wrong. Her eyes fluttered open, the effort of moving her eyelids was one she had never suspected, and it almost took more than she could muster. When she did manage it, she forced them shut again, the overwhelming pain of the sun glaring at her with all it's strength for daring to be alive causing agony to ripple through her body, awakening all the other agonies that were lying in wait for her mind to recognise them. She would have screamed, except her throat was so dry that no noise would escape. Instead, her agony echoed through her brain in an unending scream that deafened her to everything else.

Every breath sent further torment through her body, but she endured it silently, the same way she always had. She was no fool, she had only had her eyes open for a second, but it was long enough to realise her predicament. She was alone, abandoned on the beach for being too risky to take back, too dangerous. Survival depended solely on her, the same way it always had done. All she had to do was force herself to get up, there would be some water nearby, they wouldn't have taken it when they left, and she would be fine. That was the way her mind worked, tackle the immediate problem and leave the others.

She tried to move, to push herself up, ignoring the pain as something that was irrelevant. She managed it, somehow, but she didn't move again. There was a seeping warmth spreading across her stomach, her fingers were sticky with it, and as her body dripped with perspiration, her mind dripped with desperation. She couldn't do this. She could barely move, every breath was shadowed with agony, she was ridiculously dehydrated, and blood was pouring from her. It was too much.

A moment that stretched into infinity but was as short as a heartbeat held her in her terror, silent and still. Then she heard it. His voice was filled with a joy that banished every creeping emotion in her mind, setting her at ease. She opened her eyes and he filled her sight, the water dripping off him making him shimmer in the sunlight, his smile so infectious that she felt one forming on her own face. Without questioning why she felt so safe and protected by the man who had betrayed her secret to everyone, she let him take care of her, too tired to do anything else. As he whispered reassurances to her, placing pressure on her stomach to stop the bleeding and laying her back down, she drifted off into a contented sleep. The terror of a moment ago was forgotten. Sawyer was taking care of everything, and she was safe.

Having laid her down, he kissed her softly knowing that she was already asleep. Sat in the warm sand, watching the soft movements of her breathing he felt a million miles away from the terrified vigil he had made the first night they'd been left here. Instead of consuming darkness that hid everything except an occasional shuddering breath, her body was illuminated by the soft glow of the sun, and every breath she made came as further proof that she was going to live.


	12. Chapter 12

Kate's recovery had been slow, ridiculously slow. That was partly the severity of her injuries, but it was more down to Sawyer than anything else. He wouldn't let her attempt to sit up for two days after she had first woken, so scared that she might burst her wound again. Once she'd convinced him to let her try she thought he might back of slightly, see that she was actually capable of doing things. But the effort of forcing her body to hold her weight when it was still healing took a lot of her strength, leaving her exhausted and irritable and what she classed as a failure.

At first she'd felt safe with him, but her mind was so eroded by fear and pain that anything she could grab hold of became her haven. With Sawyer pampering her, offering food and water and anything else she might want every five minutes, she began to feel caged and confined, trapped by his need to help her. She wasn't used to people helping her, wasn't used to kindness, and she saw all sorts of conflicting motivations for his actions, becoming more suspicious and paranoid every time he did something for her. It had come to the point where she would grind her teeth to keep from spitting accusations at him, his irritatingly cheerful demeanour rubbing her completely the wrong way.

For his part, Sawyer could see that something was wrong with her, and knew that it was something more than pain. She was perfectly able to deal with pain, ignore it, move past it, and use it as a way of manipulating everyone else. He knew it because he did it, played it was for all it was worth, but was bothered very little by it. He had learnt when he was young that physical pain was vastly surmounted by emotional pain, and he'd learnt how to close his mind off to it. He'd seen the haunted look in her eyes when she thought no one was looking, seen the way her fingers went automatically to the toy plane in her pocket whenever anything got to her, and he knew that she had the same defences he did. She had to have them to have survived this long.

His assumption was that it was the helplessness getting to her, eroding her confidence in her body and her ability to survive. He tried to fill in for that, getting her everything that she needed so that there was no reason for her to doubt her abilities. Cheerfulness and happiness was not something that his character generally expressed to any extent at all, and it wasn't something he managed to bring across easily. He found himself biting back quips and falling back onto his smile to get through awkward silences. It worked too, for a little while. But now she just sat there, seething, not meeting his eyes, and he could feel her bristling anger with every breath she took. When he tried to calm her, when he let her exert herself beyond what she was obviously incapable of achieving, it only made things worse. She fell back into exhaustion and became even more irritable, and the words, "I told you so," had to be bitten back more than once.

Unable to fathom that it might be his very presence that was driving her mad, he had spent most of the day glaring silently at the sand, unable to look at her pale, gaunt figure, swathed in the shadow of his tent as the blistering glow of the sun illuminated everything apart from her. He was quite shocked when her voice broke into his carefully created illusion of harmony. Each word was carefully spoken, the pain that they elicited well hidden.

"We need more water." The statement was simple, but it took a lot of effort. She refused to meet his eyes, unable to bear the compassion there. Flirting she could take, she was used to men undressing her with their eyes, but kindness was not something she could take, not from him. He was like her. He was supposed to hurt her. It was what she deserved.

There was an awkward silence born of vast chasm separating them. Sawyer could reach out his fingers and they'd be lost within the soft depths of her hair, but he wouldn't really be touching her. She was too far away. So he grunted a sound that could be taken as an agreement and turned away from her, feeling the aching shadow of betrayal haunting him. He knew that he wasn't what kept her alive, but he couldn't shake the memory of her body lost in the darkness but for his eyes holding her there.

He wasn't even that surprised when he came back to find his tent empty, her footsteps quickly fading from the beach and into the jungle. He didn't know where the strength for that had come from, but it didn't surprise him. Running was what she was good at. He didn't swear, kick or throw things. He just sat down where she had been laid, dropping the water bottles on the floor. The cynical part of his mind was glad to get his tent back, and he took comfort in that, even though the rest of his mind was picturing Kate's motionless body lost in the jungle. He didn't make a move to follow her, it was her choice.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N- Sorry again that this took so long, I had exams for the past month, and I haven't had time for anything. Thanks for the reviews, they make my day._

Even though she's collapsed onto the ground, her body at awkward angles, crushing healing wounds, her mind still runs. She rushes into the freezing wind but it flees past her, refusing to cool her burning skin. It doesn't matter what she's running from, it never really did. There was always going to be a reason, too many lies and too much pain were spread behind her for to be able to stay anywhere. She couldn't remember why she was running this time, her thoughts were a tumbling muddle that shifted before she could begin to make sense of them. But whatever it was, it wasn't important, what was important was running, getting as far away as she could. Even injured and unconscious , she couldn't stop running.

It had become dark again, he'd half-heartedly started a fire, doing such a poor job that it had gone out quickly. He hadn't bothered to start it again, he didn't know why he'd lit it in the first place. A need for survival flowed through his veins even if his mind wanted nothing more than to destroy itself.

He'd done something he'd sworn he would never do. He'd rested his vision of the future on a woman. He'd become dependant on someone else's actions, something he'd spent the majority of his life carefully avoiding. And Kate had acted exactly how he'd always feared, she'd ripped him apart. His carefully constructed illusions of possession were fine whilst she was unconscious, but as soon as she woke up she'd shattered his sanity, taking everything he had with such ease. He knew women were untrustworthy, he'd spent most of his adult life manipulating that fact, but somehow he'd fallen into the trap of all those men he'd conned.

He should have let them done whatever they liked with her, raped her and killed her. He could have been on a boat back to civilisation with hundred's of celebrity hungry women to sleep his way through, and it would be no more than she deserved. But even now, the thought of that repulsed him. She was him in so many ways, and if he damned her to such a fate, what awaited him? He'd much rather be here, with her his salvation and his damnation, than on the boat back to a reality he despised. It was fitting, really, that he couldn't have her, that she wouldn't ever be his. Eternal torment. He didn't believe in purgatory, but if he did this place would undoubtedly be it.

He wondered if she was dead, if he'd find her face down in the jungle, forever out of reach of his corrupting touch. Probably, but he could still hear her breaths echoing into the darkness, and he couldn't help but think that it would be worse if she was alive, always there but forever out of reach.

She awoke to the feeling of a needle being forced into her arm. A scream left her mouth before her brain was even able to take the situation in, instinct taking over. Struggling to get away from the needle, she found herself to be restrained. She tested her strength against them for a moment, keeping up the act of being hysterical as she forced her mind to assess the situation. The lights in the room were bright, almost to the point of being blinding. She hadn't seen electric lighting since the plane crash, did this mean they'd been saved? That would explain the restraints, but not the needle, and her mind was still sluggish, struggling to remember what had happened. When it did come back, it did so suddenly. Letting Jack go, Locke's betrayal, being reunited with Edward Mars's partner. She'd been having a good week. But most of all she remembered Sawyer. Abandoning him at a whim, rushing into the jungle when she was barely able to walk. She felt guilty, which was worrying. This was what she did, use people, disappear in an instant, leave them to pick up the pieces. She couldn't carry any more guilt than she already did, but doing that to Sawyer hurt far more than it should have. And it had got her into this situation, the restraints on her wrists evidence enough for her to damn the people caging her.

The man with the needle finished extracting blood from her arm and called out, "She's conscious," to no one Kate could see.

"I gathered that," a rather gruff voice sounded from behind her. "Any trace of it?"

Kate saw the man shake his head and turn away from the voice behind her. He fiddled with a drawer for a moment, before turning back. Looking above her head, he asked rather anxiously, "What are we going to do with her?"

There was a laugh which made Kate's skin crawl. "What do you think?" The man came around to the front of the bed which Kate was restrained to, regarding her for a moment. He was overweight and dirty, a grey beard masking his mouth. "It's a pity really," he continued, letting his fingers reach down to her face and brush her hair behind her ear, "We could have had some fun with her." With a sigh he nodded to the man who was fiddling with the drawer again and left, his footsteps ringing softly in Kate's head.

The other man turned to face Kate, an almost apologetic look on his face. She saw what he had been fiddling with in the drawer, another needle. She tried to fight, but the restraints kept her from moving. The sedative in the needle took effect almost immediately, and she felt her muscles relax involuntarily. Her efforts to keep her eyelids open failed and as soon as they closed she was asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

He wasn't a particularly heavy sleeper, but he was oblivious to the noises of the people approaching him. He didn't wake until a boot collided painfully with his stomach, jolting him back to reality. His eyes opened to the sight of six men pointing guns at him, all but one of them barefoot.

The one with the boots chuckled at Sawyer's angry glare. "We didn't want to take any chances Mr. Ford." He was a fat man with a grey scraggly beard and a harsh voice. In the faint light of morning just before the sun rose, the men pointing their guns at him seem all the more menacing, but it was the sound of the fat man's voice that really made his skin crawl. It had traces of cruelty in it that were all too familiar to the boy that had grown up with no illusions about what people were capable of. He struggled up, needing to be on an equal footing to those who were so obviously seeking to hurt him.

Pointing his gun towards the earth, away from Sawyer, the fat man said, "I wouldn't do that if I was you, Mr. Ford, we've got something of yours, and you wouldn't want her to get _broken_."

It was the second time the man had used Sawyer's real name, but again he paid no attention to it, there were far worse things that he had been called. Instead, his attention was called to the undertones in the word 'broken'. There was more than one way to break a person, and Sawyer knew about more of them than he cared to. The thought of any of them being used on Kate was more than he could bear, and he was rising to the bait before he had the chance to think. "Where the hell is she? What have you done to her?" He was shouting, using his height to intimidate, knowing that it wasn't the most clever thing he had ever done, but needing to know what had happened to her.

The effect of six guns being cocked should have been disconcerting, but it wasn't the first time Sawyer had been held at gunpoint, and he knew that if they were going to pull the trigger, they would have done already. "I'm not sure that's a question you want to ask. Kate's not a very forgiving girl. What do you think she's gonna do when she finds out that you left her in the jungle, face down in the dirt, bleeding to death? She's killed men for less before."

That bait failed to rile Sawyer up in the same way as thoughts of her being broken had done. Sawyer knew what it felt like to be trapped, knew the fear of being caged. He'd spent seven hours spent trapped behind a pair of leather boots, breathing in the scent of the dung on the bottom of them, and later the pervading scent of blood, its coppery taste something that he'd never entirely been able to get out of his mouth. Kate hadn't run because she wanted him to follow her, she'd run from demons that no longer existed. Far from not forgiving him for not following her, she'd be much more disgusted at him if he had followed her. This realisation led to Sawyer's next question being much more controlled, the rage he felt being buried far enough underneath his skin that he could keep his voice level. "What do you want?"

Annoyed that the fun had been taken out of the situation, the fat man rolled his eyes. There was not much chance for entertainment on the deserted island, and the chance to wind up a redneck idiot had been something he'd been looking forward too. "For now, a blood sample. Later, we'll see." He couldn't resist the last little quip. Later, they would see, and he could only hope the results of the blood tests would be positive. Some idiots didn't deserve the air they breathed. "Alex." He called to the brunette, knowing that she'd know what he wanted her to do. Then he turned away from the squat that Sawyer had been living in.

The girl that the man had called Alex pulled a needle from a plastic bag, smiling awkwardly at Sawyer as she approached him with it. She pulled up the sleeve on his shirt, careful to concentrate on his arm rather than on his face.

"You do this to every man you meet?" Sawyer's slightly sarcastic flirtation made the girl blush as she inserted the needle into his arm. She didn't answer his question though, focusing instead on drawing blood from his arm. She didn't trust herself to speak to him. He was being kept alive as part of an experiment that she had lived through. They hadn't planned on him staying, nor the girl, but that they were still here was too good an opportunity not to take advantage of. Alex just wished that she could feel happy about the circumstances, but the idea of another child being subjected to what she had had to live through was not a pleasant one.

Removing the needle from his arm and sealing it into its bag, she allowed her eyes to fall onto his face, and whispered the words that he had desperately sought to hear, "She is alive and she is safe, for now." Then she left in the same direction that the fat man had gone in.

Sawyer absently rubbed his arm where she had drawn blood, allowing himself to breathe a sigh of relief. Kate was alive and safe, even if she was a hostage for his good behaviour. Glancing at the five men clutching their guns, he allowed himself to sink to the ground. It was all he could do for now.


	15. Chapter 15

"He's clean." It was supposed to be good news, they needed someone to replace the lunatic in the hatch, well, two someones, otherwise it wouldn't be long until Sawyer became the lunatic in the hatch. Plus, it had been too long since they had a child in the program, and that was one of the most valuable parts of the experiments they conducted. Not surprisingly none of the people involved in the experiment had been too eager to produce children having seen what happened to those in it. They had tried to take some of the children involved in the plane crash, but they had all been taken with the rescue. It was too risky to keep any of them behind with outside interest being what it was. And the rescue had to happen, they had been far too disruptive to do otherwise.

That Kate and Sawyer had been left was an irritation, they had obviously underestimated the stupidity of the armed forces. So something had to be done about them. The hatch was an obvious place to put them. The man currently in there was at the end of his tether, the observation teams at the Pearl had reported that he wasn't far from suicide. No one was likely to volunteer for that duty, and outside recruitment programs had been abandoned.

So it was good that Sawyer was clean, useful, and it solved a multitude of problems. But he couldn't be happy about it. He wanted that bastard to suffer, he deserved to suffer. He was rude and vicious, an asshole of the worse sort. Plus, if Sawyer wasn't available for the project, that meant that there was no use for the hellcat they had back at base, and he could have a whole lot of fun with her. Instead the two of them got off easy.

"Let's get moving then." He might not be happy, but he wasn't about to show Alex that. She'd been enough trouble as it was recently, and if she wasn't so important they'd have got rid of her.

By the time they whipped his hood off, Sawyer was practically choking. The coarse fabric had been itching at his face, making his skin crawl, and even though he knew he could get enough air through his nose, the binding in his mouth was still disconcerting. His eyes were met by a harsh, invasive light, and it took him a moment to adjust to it.

"Welcome to your new home, Mr. Ford." The same men, the ones that had been holding him, the ones that had been threatening to hurt Kate if he misbehaved, were once again pointing guns at him. But this time the power balance was different. He might have been tied up, gagged and being held at gunpoint on his knees, but he could feel it. Something had changed. The disdain in the mans voice had disappeared, he was being addressed like a human being rather than as a piece of dirt. It mattered to them if he lived or died, and he was thankful of the gag that prevented him from smiling at what that meant.

His rising confidence was short lived, as two gunshots ripped through the air. He felt his blood run cold as a sickening thought entered his head; what if the fact that they needed him meant that they didn't need Kate? He had seen her bloody and beaten, inches away from death, and it didn't take much for him to imagine her lying lifeless on the floor of this artificial prison. He had thought he was safe, but his safety had cost Kate her life.

The fat man that Sawyer thought of in his head as Zeke leant down until the ends of his beard tickled Sawyer's face. "Bad things happen to people who don't co-operate with us. You might want to keep that in mind." The words rung falsely to Sawyer, there was something not right with the tone the man had used. He could easily imagine Kate not co-operating, she was obtuse enough as it was without being held in captivity. But she was no worse than him, and even though his behaviour had been controlled by the thought of what they might do to her, he didn't honestly believe they had killed her because of that. Something else was going on here.

Movement caught his eyes, two men dragging a body in from an adjoining room. For a moment he thought they were going to parade her in front of him. But the body they brought out, blood dripping from the chest, was not hers. It was a man who couldn't have been much older than Sawyer, although his face was tired. If this was meant to terrify him into submission though, Sawyer thought they had missed their chance. If this man was who they were using to bully him, then it meant that Kate was alive, and that she was just as needed as he was.

"You need to listen carefully. There is a computer here. Your job is to enter six numbers into it every time the alarm goes. If you don't, or if you attempt to leave, we will kill you both." Both, meaning that he was right, that she was alive, and that they were going to extreme lengths to intimidate him into co-operating with them.

Even though he had been told there would be an alarm, when it went off it still made him jump. It was an intrusive sound that would be difficult to ignore. So this was what they had brought him here for. To answer to a bell.

They pulled him roughly to his feet, he was used to that and didn't bother fighting back at them, he was curious to see what they had gone to such lengths for. The room he was dragged into was full of electrical equipment, none of which was familiar to him apart from the computer that was clearly its focus. The seat in front of the computer had a wet stain on it, drips of red still falling from it to the floor. Without any consideration, they dumped him on it, he could feel the wetness seep quickly through his shirt to stain his back.

Zeke smiled as he watched Sawyer's feet settle into the pool of blood on the ground, letting him fall still before pulling a knife from his pocket. He reached behind Sawyer, enjoying the uncertainty in the man's eyes before cutting the binding on his wrists.

"Six numbers, Sawyer. Four, Eight, Fifteen, Sixteen, Twenty Three, Forty Two." He watched as Sawyer's fingers entered the numbers into computer, hovering uncertainly over the keyboard. "You enter them every time the alarm goes, every one hundred and eight minutes. If you don't do this, you will die." Then he turned away, leaving Sawyer in the company of two gun-wielding men who looked incredibly bored.

The girl with the dark hair slipped into the room, flashing him an awkward, worried smile. Her hands were trembling, and she couldn't keep her eyes off the blood on the floor. Sawyer wondered what the hell a kid like her was doing here, why she was trusted so much when she clearly wasn't stable.

She placed two pill bottles next to the keyboard. "She will need two of these a day," she tapped the bigger bottle, making sure Sawyer nodded before moving on to the other bottle, "These are sleeping tablets. She should stay still, these will help you if she does not. But you cannot give her more than one a day." Again Sawyer nodded, looking more worried. His skin was shivering at the thought of what state she might be in, and his body was acutely aware of the wetness on his back.

Reaching into her pocket, Alex pulled out a piece of paper and placed it on top of the computer screen. "The numbers you must enter." There was an emphasis on must, a veiled warning meant to be hidden from the men in the room, but all too obvious to Sawyer. She turned to leave, but Sawyer was oblivious to the apologetic look she gave him as she slipped away, and to the tears that were hastily wiped from her face.

Instead, all he saw was Kate, dark hair flowing about her body as she was guided into the room. She was pale, ghostlike, and she practically floated towards him, her eyes seeing nothing. She was left in the middle of the room, the man who had guided her there leaving with the two who had been left to guard Sawyer. She just stood there, not moving, not even breathing, trapped in a moment that didn't exist. Sawyer was afraid to move, afraid to speak. With a gulf of silence between them they stood in an unfamiliar room, metres from each other, but metres may as well have been miles.

It was Kate who broke the silence, the distance between them shattering as she jerked her head up. Eyes filled with pain and tears met eyes filled with fear and hurt, and she was in his arms in an instant, willing to let herself be swallowed up. And for the moment they were both happy to stay like that, hiding from words that would be uttered later and from the prison that they were caught in.


	16. Chapter 16

She was having a nightmare again, the same one undoubtedly. He could hear her thrashing about in the bed underneath his, could hear her fear quicken her breaths. He wanted to go to her, to wake her from the terrors that held her. He'd learnt that that wasn't a good idea though, last time he'd tried he'd gained a bloody nose for his efforts, she packed one hell of a punch for someone of her size. They were her demons, and she didn't appreciate his attempts to fight them for her.

She'd wake soon, he knew the pattern this dream took. Her thrashing had grown more violent, in a second it would stop and a terrified sob would come then. She'd wake after that, slip silently out of the bed and into bathroom. He would watch her silhouette as she rinsed her face. She'd stay there for a while, staring at the mirror. Then she'd be back, just as silently. He might ask her if she was ok, she'd say she was and they'd both feel the lie. It was better if he didn't ask. She'd spend the night fighting to stay awake, and he'd spend it listening to her do this, wishing he could help.

Just as expected, she woke with a start, quickly fleeing. He listened to the trickle of water from the tap, it wasn't a noise he had ever paid much attention to before, but he found that it was strangely soothing. But soon the water stops, and the light goes out, leaving him with just the sounds of her footsteps coming back, soft whispers that soon disappear.

He's surprised when her skin meets his. It's slick with sweat, the only evidence of her terror. She climbs into his arms without a word, burying her head in his chest with a sigh. The bed really isn't big enough for both of them, but he doesn't tell her that, he's not sure that he would be able to say anything even if he tried; any words he spoke would just shatter the peace. Instead he just holds her as they both drift, finding a better sleep than either of them had known since they arrived at this gilded cage.

It had taken her two weeks to recover some of the grace to her movements that he had so admired. There was a tension between them, so much left unsaid, but neither of them were willing to broach the subject; they were both so used to running from their pasts that it came easily. It still didn't ease relations between them any, an uncomfortable atmosphere of distrust, each suspecting the other of trying to bring up what they were so desperate to run from. Suspicion always came far easier than trust. Still, there were plenty of distractions in the hatch, running water, toilets, even a shower, enough to provide diversions.

Kate resisted the sleeping pills despite her nightmares, and Sawyer found that he couldn't bring himself to force them upon her. He did, however, insist upon the antibiotics. He had no reason to trust the people that had locked them in here, but he was desperate enough to believe the girl's words. He had seen Kate on the edge of life, and he had no wish to repeat that. She was a ghost of herself anyway, pale and withdrawn, bruises shadowing her body that were anxiously concealed. He wanted to ask her about them, but that would be breaking the barrier they had put up, and he didn't want to face all the guilt and pain that would bring. So instead, he ignored them, just as she ignored his beaten torso, a sick feeling striking both of them when the consequences of their actions were presented to them.

Things became easier as moving began to come easier to her. The inability of either of them to cook even the freeze dried food in the store was entertaining, and repeated chance encounters coming into and out of the shower eased the tension somewhat. But they both knew that any kind of peace was going to be short lived. Eventually some of the poison in their souls was going to spill over, and neither of them would cope with the captivity of the hatch.

It took three days for him to realise what she was doing, she hid it well, but he found her in the store picking through the food to find what would pack most easily into her bag. He didn't want to confront her, but with everything that had been brewing between them, he found that he couldn't help himself.

"What the hell do you think you're doing," his words startled her. She span round, hair whipping about her face as her eyes stared guiltily at him. She didn't try to hide what she was doing, she had been determined that she would do it, and she wasn't going to let him stop her.

"You heard what they said, if we leave here we're dead." Panic was starting to rise. It hadn't been an easy few weeks, but it had been safe. After all that had happened on the island safety was a precious commodity that he wasn't willing to give up. But more than that, images of her body in his tent, her skin ashen and her breathing barely audible came flashing before his eyes. Death was something that he had never been particularly afraid of. He had been exposed to enough it that he had thought he'd hardened himself to it. But her death was terrifying him, he couldn't let go of those images, and it was eating away at him.

"How long do you think we'll last if we stay in here? I'm not going to live in a cage." There was fear in her voice too, but it was the fear of captivity that had haunted her, a fear that had chased her out of her childhood. She wasn't lying when she said she didn't think she could survive in captivity. She wouldn't, and already she could feel the walls closing in on her.

"So you were just going to leave again, walk out in the middle of the night and leave me to figure it out on my own?" He'd done it, he'd crossed over the line into the things that they didn't talk about, and some of the anger he'd locked up seeped out in her voice.

She was used to that though, it didn't intimidate her. She knew that what she'd done had damaged their relationship, and if he yelled at her maybe he could let some of that go. "Then come with me." She'd meant to issue that as a challenge, but the words came out as a desperate whisper. She hated the vulnerability she felt, but she couldn't keep it from her face.

All the anger he had felt fled in her gaze, "We can't leave, they will kill us if we do."

A wicked smile spread across her face, infectious and mesmerising. "They'd have to catch us first." She'd spent the last four years of her life evading those who'd been trained to catch her, the men who'd put them in here would have no chance.

She wanted to run. Fantastic. He'd managed to get him stuck on a hellhole island with a woman whose only drive was to run. He didn't want to run. He wanted a life. But she was right about one thing, neither of them would survive in here, it wasn't a life. Living to the beck and call of an alarm every 108 minutes would kill them, and at least if they left they could go out fighting. Still, he didn't want to run. "I'm not running Kate."

She looked at him blankly, he didn't understand what he was talking about. If this was about her running then she'd have been gone already, she wouldn't have asked him to come. She needed to make him understand. "Then we'll walk." She cringed at the words, but she had no other way to make him see.

He looked at her, crouched on the floor. In those few words she'd given more of herself than she had ever given before. She'd let some of her walls down, but even now she was the strongest person he knew. He couldn't do this, he couldn't bring himself to answer her.

Instead he left her on the floor, storming into the main room. He knew she was following him but he didn't stop until his elbows were resting against the top bunk. He could smell her in his bunk, she'd spent last night in his arms. She'd given a bit of herself then too, she'd trusted him. Maybe he ought to trust her.

He didn't want to run, but he wanted her. Without turning he said, "Let's go then." He expected her to be a flurry of activity, desperate to go. He was surprised when he felt warm fingers on his arm, turning him to face her. Silky locks of hair brushed his arm, and he found himself caught up in green eyes. Her hand wandered its way up his arm, fingertips dancing on his skin. When it reached his face she unconsciously stood on her tiptoes, her breath dancing on his face.

Before she could kiss him the alarm started blaring. She grinned and kissed him anyway, savouring his taste for as long she could bear the blazing alarm ripping through her ears. Eventually she pulled away from him, slipping out of his grasp as she went to type the numbers into the computer.

He caught her, pulling her back, her parted lips drawing him in for another kiss. With the alarm getting more insistent it didn't last long. Drawing a stray lock of hair from her face, he asked her, "Are you ready?"

She nodded, she'd packed her stuff already, and had packed some of his as well, in the hope that she would be able to convince him.

"Then let's go." As the alarm stepped up in its insistency, Kate grabbed the packs from storeroom as Sawyer undid the door. Catching up to him as he pulled it open, swapping brief smiles, they stepped forward and opened the second door. Stepping into the sunlight, into the jungle and the fresh air, Sawyer slung his arm across Kate's shoulder, pulling her body against his. Slowly they walked out into the jungle, ignoring the sirens that cut through the air. They were done with that.


End file.
